Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(45)

Veronica slapped him on the chest. “What do you mean you said you had no one? You didn’t tell her about me?”

Then something dawned on Elle. “Oh my God. You have kids too, don’t you? That’s why you said you had experience. And why you were so good with Jonah.”

“You mean with her?” Jack had the nerve to ask while pointing at Ronnie who frowned, looking confused.

“What?” A pause, and then it clicked in her head, for she grimaced. “Oh, you think he and I have children? Eew, no. No kids for us.”

“Kick his ass to the curb,” Elle told her. “Don’t believe a word the bastard says. He’s stepped out on you with me, he will do it again.”

Ronnie nodded. “He is a pain in the butt; I give you that, but I’m kind of attached to the bastard. Plus he’s my landlord too.”

“You are the pain in the butt,” Jack muttered to her. “My butt.”

“Don’t use that tone with your wife.” Elle came to her defense. “It’s a miracle she hasn’t murdered you in your sleep already.”

“Sooo true,” Ronnie said, assenting. “I’d be open to sharing him. What do you think?”

Nuts. This chick was nuts. “Keep him. I don’t want him. We are done, Borg. As a matter of fact, I’m going to take you up on your offer,” she said to Biker Dude. “A drink and some R&R would do me good.”

“No you won’t.” Jack shot a glance at Biker Dude that made him stagger.

Fantastic, the toughest-looking guy in the place was scared of Jack.

Biker Dude glanced at her, then at Jack, and took another step back, lifting again his hands. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know she was with you.”

That was it. Elle exploded. “I’m not with him. I don’t share—”

She opened her mouth, but Jack grabbed her and suddenly his tongue was deep in her throat. She thrashed, unable to wrench away from him until he finished thoroughly kissing her and lightened the pressure on the back of her head.

“Don’t you dare touch me again. Go back to your—”

“Sister, pet,” he whispered against her lips, a smirk on his face. “Ronnie is my baby sister.”



Jack watched, amused, as Elle fumed and cursed in the truck.

“Why are you so pissed at me?” After all, he was the one who had been yelled at, jabbed, and punched.

“Why? Because you let me make a fool of myself, that’s why. You didn’t correct me.”

“You didn’t let me talk, pet.”

“Ha! Since when has that stopped you? ‘Elle, meet my sister’. How difficult is that?” she screamed, jabbing him with her finger again. “Or you could have mentioned it on our way there. You were having too much fun while I made an ass out of myself and insulted your sister and advertised to everyone you were f*cking me.”

He grabbed her hand. She looked furious now, her expression thunderous. Man, she was magnificent. “I wouldn’t worry about Ronnie. She doesn’t offend easily. When it comes to other people, it’s good they know I’m f*cking you. No misunderstandings.”

“You…you…” She seemed to have trouble finding the right words. “Ass!” she finally said, punching him on the arm.

“You want a chance to beat the shit out of me? Not these little annoying jabs and slaps. I mean sock me for real.”

She snorted. “Where do I sign?”

Jack took a sharp left. “Come on. I know how to work this off.” She was so wound up, there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. He had a better plan.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

They were close by, so in two minutes they arrived.

“A gym?” she said looking around as he killed the engine.

Jack nodded, opening the front door. “I come here to train. I keep unusual hours, so the owner gave me the keys.”

“What about training at Haddican’s in Alden? Like all the Bowens?”

Sure. In Alden, with the OGs and the strippers and now the mega-famous rock band Amantis and their crew. Right. He dragged her to the boxing ring. “Get the gloves. You want to hit me? Hit me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“Oh, I know you will,” he said, in a tone that would grate on her nerves. “Try, I mean. Hopefully you can do better than those annoying finger jabs of yours.”

She stomped to the boxing ring, dropped her jacket and pulled off her sweater. Clad in a T-shirt, she grabbed the gloves. “I’m so going to kick your ass.”

Jack took the paddles.

“No gloves for you?” she asked.

“Not in the business of hitting little girls. Do your worst.”

“Not a little girl,” she grunted and threw a punch that wasn’t half bad.

“You’re good,” he said, dodging a leg kick.

“This is nothing. Wait till I warm up,” she stated, dancing around him, her arms in perfect defensive position.

She warmed up pretty fast, because in no time she was throwing punches and leg kicks and body blows that didn’t faze him because of his training. Wearing a cup would have been a good idea, though. She was that mad.